Dark Grey Pools and Snowflake Kisses
by lilsaquaangel
Summary: The trials of Hermione Granger as she stays up late waiting for Draco to come back to the Head dorms. When he finally does return, will all her waiting be worth it?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: My one regret in life is that I don't own HP. But when I grow up, I want to be just like J.K. Rowling :)

He stands there then walks away  
My god if I could only say  
And if you asked me if I love him  
I'd lie  
-Taylor Swift _I'd Lie_

Chapter 1:

The flames from the fire light up the dull metal on the stately grandfather clock as it drones out a lengthy twelve "gongs". I wrench my eyes from the spot on the carpet that I've been staring at for half an hour. Was it really that late? _Hogwarts: A History_ and several empty cups of hot chocolate accompany me on the plush couch in the Heads dorm as I slowly pull my legs up onto the couch and hug my knees. My sanity has gone way past the point of regretting my decision. At this point, turning back was to admit wasting three hours of my time waiting. And Hermione Granger doesn't admit defeat.

I sighed deeply and hugged myself closer, gazing off into the fire and losing myself to delicious dance of the flames. I'm not usually a person who makes irrational decisions. I like to think of myself as rather steady and level-headed. And yet how ironic it is that I'm sitting up for the whole night and probably a good portion of the morning for the most undependable unreliable prat in the real history of Hogwarts. My frustration boiled into annoyance and finally fury as the time dragged on. The fact that I finally got up, grabbed a quill and parchment, and began to write down all the major character flaws of said prat only proved what lack of sleep does to a dependable and level-headed witch. My handwriting, although neat as ever, was uncharacteristically big as I began to write.

"_Draco Malfoy: The Prat of the_ _Century"_, I titled the page with a self-satisfied glance.

"_1. Self-centered_" Anyone who had ever spent five seconds with Draco could vouch for this fact. He spent more than half of his blasted time in our shared bathroom staring at himself in the mirror. There are only so many times that a person can admire their perfection. And Draco kept on pushing that number higher and higher.

"_2. Arrogant_" Bragging about your perfection is also something that is limited by numbers. And also something Draco manages to do more than humanly possible

"_3. undependable and unreliable_" Draco had specifically told me before he left that he'd be back before midnight Well, maybe not "specifically". Perhaps in passing. . .

I groaned again at the lack of sense I was making. Not to mention the lack of sense that my actions had. Draco had warned me not wait up for him tonight, he explained that Quidditch strategy sessions could take longer than planned and he wasn't really sure when he'd be back. I realized now that his warning didn't lack reason and that I probably should have taken his advice. And I would have. Except for the fact that I was incredibly selfish. It's not enough that we live next door to each other. It's not enough that I can crawl into his bed when it's thunder storming. Or enough that he'll hold me as he silently chuckles as I tremble at every flash of lightning (so much more frightening than the noise). Or enough that he sometimes walks into the bathroom without a shirt on, not anticipating that I'd be there brushing my teeth. And it's not enough that he pretends not to notice when I stare too long before turning away and muttering something about clothing being required for a reason. And it's definitely not enough that we talk for hours into the dark on the very couch I was busy oozing onto. No. I have to have that little bit of closure at the end of every day. I have to say "Goodnight" to him.

It's so pathetic when I think about it. It's just one word. It's one word that I'm wasting my whole night and a bit of my sanity for. But it's that one word that assures me everything will be all right. I spend hours during class day dreaming about that little word. I compare each and every single "Goodnight" with its brothers. They're like little jewels. Little treasures that I keep tucked in my heart. And even if some shine brighter than others, I can't bear to loose even one. So I sit. And wait. Knowing that I may complain now, but when he finally comes back and says those words, I'll go to bed with a smile.

The portrait door slowly opens and I stuff my almost-forgotten list safely under a pile of books. My heart flutters erratically and I hope I don't look _too_ bad in the wee hours of the morning. My attention is fixated on the door, but if I were to check as I had been for the past three hours, the grandfather clock would have told me "12:12". I can't seem to move my feet which are stuck to the ground. My breath is quick and fast and I feel like I could possibly faint. I can't seem to think of a rational thought, although thousands of them are swirling around in my head. But it doesn't matter, because nothing matters but him. And he's here. He's finally here.

Draco pushes the door fully open, and at first he doesn't notice me as he continues his stumble towards his bedroom. It seems like he is also not used to this lack of sleep and his eyes nearly glaze over before they land on me.

"Hermione" he gasps in both shock and relief. And I realize that he's been wishing that I had waited for him, no matter what he had warned me earlier. "I told you to not to…you shouldn't have to…you didn't have to…why did you?" I silently nod as he stumbles through his words until he asks me that fateful question. My eyes open very wide and I feel like I had just gotten my hand stuck in the cookie jar. What a good question, Draco, well you see, I haven't the faintest idea either. But I did have an idea, didn't I? I did know. I was just too much of a coward to admit it. I stand silent and my eyes begin to tear up with frustration. Well why do you think I waited up so late? I don't do this for just anyone, mind you. Only people that I really. People that I really and truly. Only for people that I…Oh forget it.

"We haven't said 'Goodnight' yet." I reply lamely as I slowly sit onto the couch. Draco quickly crosses the room in five steps and sits next to me.

"Is that it?" he inquires. Suddenly his silver eyes are molten and are pulling me down into its warm depths.

"No." I whisper, I'm unable to lie when he looks at me like that.

"Why then?" he asks again and I'm drowning again and I never want to surface. But I can't form words, no matter how hard my mind wills my mouth to move, I simply can't.

But Draco searches my eyes with his, and he finds what he's looking for in my scared, anticipating, and embarrassed expression. He gently lowers his face and brushes his lips against mine. Suddenly I'm alive again as I try to move closer and wrap my arms around his neck. But as soon as the feather-like kiss has started, it's over. And Draco backs away as I try to collect my senses and stop trembling.

"Goodnight Hermione" he whispers into my ear and I can't help but try to grab his neck again, securing him to me. He leaves and walks to his bedroom, stopping in the doorway to once again glance at my stricken gaze. And with a gentle click the door closes and everything is silent. My body allows me just enough time to instinctively raise a hand to my tingling lips and whisper a "Goodnight Draco" before I collapse onto the couch. I fall into a deep slumber with dreams of dark grey pools and kisses as light as falling snowflakes.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: HP = not by me.

Please don't get me rescued  
-_Rescued_ by Jack's Mannequin

Author's Note: I wasn't sure if I wanted a one-shot or a full-fledged story at first because I wasn't really sure of my own competence. But this story has been on my mind lately, and my curiosity is piqued (which also means that my writer's block is due any time now). But, here goes.

Chapter 2:

I was dying.

Drowning in a pool of thick warmth, I could only register that one thought. I contemplated my options, but it seemed like I couldn't think clearly, my brain muddled by the water. Treading water and breaking through to the surface seemed so tedious. Instead of relying on its survival instincts, my brain rejected leaving the haven here. Here. Here where it is warm and secure and oh-so-deliciously-comfy.

So instead of living, I calmly, even contentedly breathed the surrounding water into my lungs. I let it fill me, relishing the warmth that rushed into every corner and crevice of my being.

Light suddenly spilled into the pool, illuminating all my surroundings. I tried to shield my eyes from the brilliance, and eventually, after some time, my eyes slightly adjusted. And I could see in the grey. It neither shocked nor overwhelmed me when I found that I was not alone.

He was undoubtedly and irrevocably an angel. And therefore, I was completely and utterly crushed. Because the light that filled the pool was emanating from him. He was too bright, too beautiful, too perfect, and I was blinded. I wanted him but he wasn't mine to have. I needed to be his and he could never want me.

The sunlight streamed in through the open curtain, covering both the bed and the girl inside with a bath of golden light. Fully rested, but still seeking the comfort of my soft duvet, I stretched my limbs slightly and turned to snuggle deeper in the pillow beside me.

Too late, my instincts frantically kicked in and I remembered that I had spent the night on the couch. I internally braced myself for the fall towards the carpet below, but it never came. Instead, I landed softly on a pillow, sinking into its depths of soft feathers.

I was both relieved and disappointed as I sat up in my bed. Normally, I didn't remember my dreams at all, but what I thought was last night was obviously a figment of my imagination. Sometime in the middle of the night, I must have given up on waiting and went to bed. I was disappointed with myself and my lack of patience and almost as if my mind thought I deserved some kind of punishment, it started torturing me. What if he had come back 30 minutes after I had gone to bed? What if it had been as close as 15? I should have waited at least that longer, just to make sure. But even if that, the minutes would always drag on longer to be 15 minutes after that and 15 minutes after that. It was an endless cycle of desperation, and in the end, I would only be left disappointed.

With my sleepiness and comfort gone at my abrupt realization, I no longer wanted to silently lie in bed. I wanted to make up for what I had thought was a particularly daring act on my part by doing something real.

I bounded out of my bed and charged to the bathroom. Kicking the door open with one foot and doing a little twirl with the other I realized that I felt rejuvenated. Last night's dream was a sign, some kind of message sent from the heavens that basically told me to get a move on with my life. And although I scoffed in Professor Trelawney's class, I believed that it was long time that I got over him. I was done waiting for Draco Malfoy to get it through his thick (but oh so adorable) head that my feelings for him were way beyond platonic. And in the end, who was I kidding? If something is doomed from the start, no amount of happiness can make up for the pain that is caused when that happiness is so violently ripped away.

But as usual, just when I had worked up enough nerve and self-respect to give up on my silly little crush, and finally begin to live in reality, Fate had something totally different in mind. Because when I kicked open that door, fully expecting to be kicking open a metaphorical door of my life, life decided (not so metaphorically) to swing right back and knock me senseless.

The force from my kick had rebounded strangely off of something else that was already in the bathroom, something that muttered a low curse. My eyes widened in fright and realization when as my brain frantically connected the dots that a) I had just kicked the door open into the very thing I was trying to kick out and b) the door was coming back for revenge. I only had the small amount of time to shut my eyes and lament Hogwarts's choice of having swinging doors before the door hit me full in the face and I successfully splayed myself across the floor.

Groaning, I gingerly rubbed the bump on my forehead and heard a muted chuckle. I lifted myself to see none other than Draco Malfoy, using one hand to rub the bump on his own head while using the other to muffle his laughter. He was laughing at my Hello Kitty pajamas. Quickly, I picked myself up and stalked my way to the bathroom, stopping just once to icily glare at Draco before transfiguring the swinging door into a normal one with a heavy duty lock. I was just ready to slam this door in his smirking face before I heard his silky voice drawl out, "I haven't washed yet, and I'm not clever with spells like you, so kindly don't use all the warm water, love."

Blushing down to my toes because he complimented my intelligence and called me "love" in the same sentence, I managed a squeak of compliance before I started my shower. As I stared mindlessly at the cool tile while water cascaded down my back, I contemplated 3 things: how I was furiously angry at Draco for laughing at my pajamas, how my plan had managed to spectacularly fail itself when it had only just begun, and how even through all this, I was still smiling like an idiot.


End file.
